


System Restart Required

by Clocksmith



Series: Android!Max [3]
Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Android!Max, F/F, Modified!Victoria, Technician!Warren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 08:40:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14016480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clocksmith/pseuds/Clocksmith
Summary: “She’s overheating.”I look up to Victoria and she’s on her phone. Her eyes briefly shift to black again, but there aren’t any bloody sparks shooting through. Blue is becoming prominent as she taps an impatient foot on the floor. Her eyes flicker back and forth to Max. “Pick up your fucking phone, techie.”





	System Restart Required

Holding hands may not be that much of a novelty to most people but it’s something I relish when walking alongside Max. It shows that she is a person that wants to be in constant contact with me, even through as simple an action as walking through the halls of her university sector. It shows that she wants to be as close to me as much as I want to be close to her.

That, and her hands don’t get sweaty. Which is useful on a day like today. I haven’t really held a meaty hand for an extended period of time but I’m told it can get slimy and uncomfortable. I suppose that means I’m one of the lucky ones.

Other than that, her hand feels as fleshy as mine; it’s soft, yet firm when it holds me. Warm, comfortable. Reassuring, most of all. While most couples are well into their making-out phase at six months, I am very content with our arrangement of hand-holding and cuddles.

Though... the light kisses she occasionally plants along my lips during the cuddles are not an unwelcome treat.

“You want a drink?” Max asks me, nodding her head towards a vending compartment in a wall to our right. “They fixed the flavour replicator.”

As much as I enjoy a soda in any one of eight hundred and eighty two official flavours designated, created and/or owned by the Coca-Cola Soda Stream™ Flavour Team, I instead reply, “I’m good.” Their jingle irritates me to no end.

Besides, Chloe swears they changed Pepsi after they bought it out a few years ago and I’ve been a bit wary of using their system ever sine. I don’t drink Pepsi (or many sugary drinks) unless Chloe offers, but the whole idea of one company owning ninety percent of all sweet drinks in the country seems a bit grim when it is presented to you by someone as frank as Chloe.

Though the thirty basic drinks are free once you install the machine to a water supply, so I guess it could be called a sort of charity. From a distance.

Maybe...

The rest of the photography department is rather lacklustre compared to some other areas of our university system. The walls are relatively plain and there are no vibrant colour or decorations, unlike my sector.

In Illustration, there are animated portions of the wall that display past work wandering freely down the halls. It’s messy and wild, except in the required places where it is not. Which, in itself, is a kind of chaos. It’s am untamed space for imagination to run and fall and then get up again.

Here in photography, everything is obnoxiously clean and black frames hang from the wall, easing through a seemingly endless display of work created by the students. I’ve been past here a few times over the last few months and haven’t seen all that much repetition. A few larger frames hold permanent photographs, usually labelled as contest winners and the like. Everything is utterly equidistant and put in a place perfectly aligned to everything else around it. In that regard, I suppose it’s very much like a photograph itself.

We have moved on from the displays into the plainer halls that lead to the various lecture rooms Max visits throughout her weekly schedule. Without windows, they are a cooler place to wander but a necessity before you reach our nearest exit.

Beyond which lies the dreaded sun and the sticky heat.

I’m stopped mid-thought when Max turns to me suddenly and kisses me softly on the lips. I’m not adverse to this in the slightest, though the suddenness of the act (in public, no less) catches me somewhat off-guard. The general lack of people at this time of day soothes away the anxiety.

Much like her hands, there is no moisture left when her lips leave. I’m not too sure if ‘real’ lips would leave moisture after such a small interaction but I am not curious to find out.

“Oh, so the PolaDroid wasn’t lying?”

As nice as the surprise kiss was, Victoria has a knack for ruining most experiences when she gets involved.

Or perhaps she was the reason I got a kiss in the first place?

I look further down the hall to see her standing there, phone in hand. She’s leaning on a pillar that neither has a classroom nearby, nor an indication that something is to take place nearby anytime soon. The scant few others in the hall walk right past her, aiming for home.

It’s almost like she was waiting.

I can feel Max’s grip on my hand tighten as she answers back. “I wouldn’t lie about getting a girlfriend, Victoria.”

I look between the two of them. Max is glaring a darkly through Victoria's eyes, but Victoria seems much more interested in me.

“I just think it’s cute that the little Christian girl has _finally_ got her first sex toy.” She smiles at me, a crease to her eyes that undermines anything that is nice about her lips. Her pupils shift the longer she looks at me, flickering from tame looking grey to a broiling green. “You’d think a virgin at twenty-three would cave in a lot sooner.”

“I wouldn’t think that was any of your business.”

I want to walk away, but I hold myself. Interactions with Victoria never end well. She’s just that sort of person.

I don’t venture into the photography sector. At least, I didn’t before I started dating Max. Most artistic courses share the same building, but illustration is in a completely different wing to photography and the other technological courses.

While that would usually keep a Photographer like Victoria away from the likes of me, her father is one of the lecturers in classical art. She comes and goes as she pleases, often using the various supplies each department has for her own ends. Creating the perfect photograph seems to be easier when you can have any subject or item summoned at your say so.

Max says a true photographer doesn’t need that kind of advantage, but it still seems unfair.

“Come to think of it,” Victoria begins again, “Do you even have anything in your pants, PolaDroid? You’re barely off the shelf.”

I clearly see Max blush and fail at trying to hide it. “N-no. But, you know, never say never. I can get something installed whenever I want.” Her eyes widen and she quickly turns her head towards me. I meet her gaze but I’m not sure how to respond to that sort of comment.

Neither does she, it seems. Max almost stammers something further in response but she turns back to face Victoria before it gets too far.

“Besides, whatever shelf my genitals are sitting on, they're going to be in a hell of a lot better condition than yours.”

I’m not sure what condition Victoria’s genitals are in (I would not dream to judge her for that, as much as a pleasure I may find in it) but I’m sure I can feel mine being hit by my stomach as both drop to the floor like old lead.

Victoria isn’t as worried. Instead, her eyes grow hotter, shifting once more with her mood. Her pupils seem to expand infinitely as her eyes shift from an irritated orange to a pitch black, red sparkling at the edge to the point that I fear it well spread to her skin. She stands taller and looks down at Max, forgetting my presence entirely.

“Ex- _fucking_ -cuse me?”

“You heard me,” Max snips back. I can see something in her eyes too, even if it isn’t as manufactured. I’m reminded of our first date; the blasts of extreme emotion as moments take hold of her mental processing.

This moment doesn’t pass. Max gives in. “You Piccadilly whore!”

Victoria splutters venom as her knuckles crack. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!”

I don’t know. I really hope Max doesn’t expand on it either-

“I thought you’d know. That’s where all the colourful prostitutes hang about.”

Oh dear...

I ease myself back from them as both girls move in, hyenas fighting for some invisible carcass. While I don’t exactly have that many friends, I know what a cat fight looks like when I see one. In that essence, perhaps hyena wasn’t the best comparison to use…

Not important right now!

I move in towards the wall, using the support to gather my thoughts. It isn’t that I wish to allow this, or condone Max getting into fights. Until this moment, I hadn’t considered the possibility that she _would_ be the sort of person to get into petty fights.

But, at the same time, I’m not someone who can step into the fray and pull it all apart. I deal with problems before they get to this stage or wait out the heat and make a tactical retreat. At least, that is the plan should I ever get into a messy situation.

“You don’t even know what tits feel like, you metal jackass!”

It might be unbecoming for that sentence to be the one that draws me out of my  inner turmoil , but it is and I cannot  justify  the importance in defending myself.

“You mod your frickin’ _nails_ , Victoria! You are honestly telling me you haven’t had implants?”

“I don’t _need_ implants!”

I  roll my eyes towards the ceiling as Max blatantly grabs her chest and shakes herself around. I would not know if they feel real or not, but the show seems intent on continuing regardless. The panels in the ceiling catch my  brief  interest, one of the few low-tech architectural choices in the  building . Simple poly panels.

I wonder how much time I could waste with them before I need to deal with the present. My girlfriend is getting into a fight.

I don’t know what to do.

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with being designed,” Max continues. I’ve missed several petty insults but I’m pretty sure they all involved breasts or sex to some degree. “Some guy probably spent several weeks designing my boobs. My boobs had consumer feedback! I can’t blame you for not being happy with the genetic lottery.”

“Yeah, well the virgins who lost the genetic lottery also made you. You’re basically a sex toy thought up by loners that teaches people to walk.”

I breath inward at that.

Max has been annoyed up until this point. She been a cocky. I have seen both of those several times before. Now, though, I don’t just see irritation. I see someone who is _very_ upset. Protective. Enraged now that two of most important people in her life have been reduced to a final punchline in a bickering contest.

I don’t even feel insulted any more. I can push things like that aside; I have done so for most of my life. From everything I have shared with her, Max knows this  about me . That might explain why she let this go on for as long as  it ha s. Maybe she was  just enjoying herself.

She has now stopped enjoying herself.

“Might _as well_ use the skills I was proggranmed with,”  she airily replies, hiding very little. “I could Get you used to walking without you shaking your _ass_ with eaach step you ta _ke_.”

She’s shaking, wheezing as she breathes in an out. Though I’m not sure where the noise is actually coming from, given her lack of lungs. Then it hits me: the fans in her cooling system.  I’ve heard them in bursts throughout the day, the weather what it is. 

But nothing as heavy or overbearing as this.

“Is teaching all Bluebeard Price used you for? Must have been pretty lonely being left at home for two years.”

“You fUckIng ta _ke_ t **h-h-h-hat** back-” Max falters, blinking wildly towards the floor. Her mouth clearly vocalises something but no sound comes out with the appropriate movements. Then she runs on repeat. “Oh shit shit **shit** shit-shit-sh _i t- s h i t- s h i t- s h i t- s h i t-_ ”

Max falls to the floor clutching her head and my blood runs cold.

“Max!”

I briefly catch a glimpse of the flickering red in Victoria eyes being absolutely doused by the darkest blue before I’m on the floor, kneeling next to my girlfriend. That wheezing noise is louder than I’ve ever heard it before. 

The fans in her system are working overtime,  desperately pushing air to wherever it is need within Max’s body

My hand is on Max’s back but I’m not quite sure how much that realistically helps her. Perhaps it doesn’t  do anything at all.

“Max, what’s wrong?”

“s h i t- s h it- s hit… shit…”

“She’s overheating.”

I look up to Victoria and she’s on her phone. Her eyes  briefly  shift to black again, but there aren’t any  bloody sparks shooting through. Blue is  becoming  prominent as she taps an impatient foot on the floor. Her eyes flicker back and forth to Max. “Pick up your fucking phone, techie.”

Someone apparently does and she repeats the relevant information to them. She  quickly  lists off our wing, floor and the nearest room numbers to our location before saying yes and no to several questions I can’t hear.

She hangs up.

“Don’t touch her,” she suddenly bites. I move away, despite the tone. “You’re just going to make her hot.”

Something like a broken laughs comes from Max between the droll swearing of her voice but it doesn’t last. She seems to remember what she’s going through and returns to that, watching her swears and slowly guiding them back to normal speech.

“-shit-shit-shit… shit-”

At least, that is what seems to be the case. She likes to swear but this is a bit excessive.

Despite Max’s repeating speech, a grim silence unfolds over Victoria and I the ‘shit’ becomes nothing more than white noise. She looks from me to Max and back again several times, the colour shifting frantically in her eyes as the subject within focus changes.

Victoria is a pretty woman, her personality not withstanding. Her hair is perfectly blonde, unlike mine. Held into a tight formation behind her head and barely held in place by anything other than its own modded strength. Her face is clean from blemishes of any sort, practically doll-like. From what I’ ve heard , her make-up is genetic; it is programmed into her skin to be  utterly  perfect.

Very much like a doll, then.

Her nails, too, are colourful. Unlike her eyes, they do not change. Max mentioned that they were modded  earlier... I can only assume the patterns are preregistered as well, switching with her fancy, whatever way it deems fit to shift.

Even her lips seem to preprogrammed. Any woman who colours their lips every day is much cheaper modding them  than buying old-fashioned cosmetics . With Victoria, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was all one package; perfection installed.

She does not need any of this. She has a slender face and a tight build. I do not find people attractive very often, but I can admit that she is beautiful. Despite what Max says, her genetic lottery seems to have gifted her well. She is neither too thin, nor too fat in the areas that it counts. Even without her mods, she could be called ‘perfect’.

I am reminded of Chloe and her situation, her days spent inside a harness that is permanently grafted  throughout her entire body. Machinery that makes her physically stronger,  more  powerful and independent.

Chloe is modded to  _be_ better. Stronger than her limitations.

Victoria is modded to  _look_ better , with the latest trends crafted into her genes.

Despite that, she seems anxious to move. Her continued looks to me and Max hang in the air, drifting as she refuses to leave despite the clear desire. She almost says something several times but, in the end,  she  does not.

I sit on the floor with Max, holding  one hand as the other clings to her hair. She’s almost curled into a ball, her systems breathing deeply while she does not.

Victoria hasn't told me to let go  of her hand . So I don’t.

She… seems to have some insight into what is going on. Part of me feels jealous, in a way; Max is my girlfriend. Why does Victoria know what to do whilst I don’t? In fact, I seemed to make  the situation worse, for as small a period of time I stayed close to Max.

Is this like a fit? It doesn’t seem quite the same. Victoria did say Max was overheating, so maybe I should take that to literally be like a computer slowing down? Would that be insulting to Max, comparing her directly to a machine? I think this would be an okay situation to worry about her as such…

“Max,” I say, tentative. She’s still swearing, but less so. Still too much to answer properly, it seems. “Max, dear. Squeeze my hand if you can hear me.”

Her voice stays  mostly  on task, repeating  several new words in a new loop  but she does indeed squeeze my hand. It’s not completely gentle, an almost forced movement. But I’ll take it.

“Squeeze it again if you’re going to be okay...”

She does so, and I feel the tension in my muscles loosen. I stroke the skin of her hand, letting a slight smile escape as I do.

“She’s not dying, you know that right?”

And there was me considering Victoria to be a decent human being.

“I wouldn’t know.”

Her eyes flash bright yellow at this. Vivid and neon. “You wouldn’t know? You’re fucking a computer and you _don’t know how her body works?_ ”

“We are _not_ f uck-” I catch myself, hitting my teeth together in a quick attempt to keep quiet. I clear my throat too, just in case. “We are not at that stage. We’re taking it slow and we are happy with it that way.”

She rolls her eyes. Back to blue. “Whatever. You’re still totally ignorant about her body.”

“Max said I had nothing to worry about.”

Her fingers are easing into her eyes now, rubbing them to erase the copious amount of strain I am apparently hav ing on her mental well being. “Yeah. Okay, fine, because that’s the intelligent way to date someone with a  _completely_ _alien_ _body_ to you rs . Just… Fuck, I don’t know. Look up her model  number or something . Read the wiki!”

I have done those things, I want to say. While that would  technically  be true, I have not researched as far into the issue as discovering all the things that could go wrong, nor do I know many ways to deal with those problems. Talking to Max usually works out  just  fine.

Sometimes her emotions get the better of her and she needs some time to cool down..It’s no different to anyone else that I know. Max just needs a little more time than some others to get a handle on things,  especially if she hasn’t experienced them before . Something that, I am told, she will get better at with time.

I suppose I was bound to see her  fail the ‘cooling off’ part  at some point . I should have prepared for this.

Victoria is right. I could have done more to research.

I thought something was seriously wrong. I’m not sure what I thought, really. Maybe Max crashed or… got corrupted? Maybe she was shutting down and would need to be restored from a backup. Lots of things.

Victoria just tapped a contact on her phone. Problem solved.

...

How did she even know which number to call?

Before I can get around to asking I hear some laboured breaths and heaving steps from around the corner. A young man bursts into view, wearing a plain pair of jeans and a t-shirt with  stylised  gorillas. Or  apes ?

“Hey!” he calls, as if he was not visible enough. “I’m here, we’re cool. What’s wrong?”

“I told you she was overheating,” Victoria spits, narrowing her eyes. “I spoke to you on the phone.”

“Yeah, well I wanted to make sure things hadn’t changed.” Much like me, he doesn’t seem all too comfortable with her presence, but he wears the discomfort better than I can. “Just chill out Victoria, all right? Can you do that?”

She rubs her eyes again. Clearly we’re all too much for her.

“Yeah,” she half-heartedly replies. “Sure, yeah. Whatever, Graham.”

‘Graham’ does a mock bow and rests a specialised tablet onto the floor. He inputs a long numbered code into a prompt before it flashes to reveals a series of applications, none of which I recognise.

Alongside the tablet, he drops too blue packs of gel.

“Hey Max,” he simply says. He twists the packs until something ‘snaps’ inside, turning the liquid inside a much darker blue. He places one on Max’s forehead and places the other on her chest, just beneath her breast line. “Can’t help but notice you’re overheating.”

The swearing  finally begins to grind to a halt. “H-hey Warren.”

Not ‘Graham’, apparently. I must be missing something. Then again, why should I be listening to Victoria for someone’s name? She doesn’t call me by mine.

Though I’m sure I’ve heard his name mentioned once. Maybe twice...

“Took you long enough to get here,” Max adds.

“I was busy with someone in biochemistry.”

“Was it the girl who gets crumbs stuck in her joints again?”

“I can neither confirm or deny who I was helping out. What I _can_ confirm is that she carries her cooling packs around with her, like she’s meant to. You know, because that’s what you need to stay cool in the hot weather.”

“I haven’t needed them. Because I’m careful.”

“Uh-huh…”

He taps a specific icon on his tablet and the end of a cable pop outs from the side. Warren promptly plugs it into the side of Max’s head before smiling at whatever information he recognises on screen.

“I am careful,” Max tried. I don’t believe it.

“Yeah, sure. Maybe.” Neither does Warren. “I don’t suppose the new girlfriend has anything to do with you overheating?”

The tablet answers in Max’s stead. Several important looking icons flare up on screen, each of them red.

“You can ask the saggy old witch with the wizards sleeve between her legs.”

Victoria’s eyes burn red once more and her whole body snaps to attention. “You know what, _fuck you_ Caulfield!”

And she flips the bird. Two of them.

“I actually gave a shit that you were spazzing out the floor. Last fucking time, Max! Maybe you should try teaching your girlfriend how your fucking body works next time. We’re not always gonna be here with Graham on click!”

I’m not even sure what to add to the  statement and neither is Warren. We watch as Victoria storms off,  disappearing around a corner. Even with her gone, the tension she helped derive hangs above us.

Warren takes a deep breath.

“Okay, we’re going to turn down your emotions for a few. Get ready.”

He doesn’t give her much time to do so, but that may in fact be the point. I swear I saw a hint  o f hurt  in Max’s eyes after Victoria  left . If I did, it’s over now. Warren  flicks a switch and that is that, apparently. The residual anger in Max’s demeanour drops dramatically, leaving her al most drowsy looking.

He turns to me. “I was meant to do that first thing when I got here. But here I thought I’d get a bit of talking in first. Now I know why to never do that again.”

Max raises a hand and gives him a thumbs up. “Might be a good call.”

“Is that you speaking objectively?”

“There isn’t much else in my head right now to speak with.”

He humours her with a small laugh.  C ompared to before, he sticks to his duties professionally. There is much less talking with her as he goes through  a serious of tests.

“You might have heard, but I’m Warren.” He’s talking to me again, though never drifting too far from the task at hand. “I take it you’re Kate?”

“Yes?” I answer, unsure. “You know me?”

“I know Max,” he explains. “We’ve been friends for a while. I helped her settle in when she first arrived. I do that for a lot of the Synths but she was fun to talk to so we try to stay in touch.”

Long enough to talk about me, apparently. 

Come to think of it, Max  _has_ mentioned Warren once or twice. Not enough for me to remember the topic, but his name rings a bell. Chloe is the main topic of conversation, usually. But I am aware she does talk to others apart from me. I’ve never heard of Warren by his full name, but I haven’t mentioned all of my friends to her either.

He seems nice enough. His hair is not combed or styled, left to grow out until it needs cut. His clothes are also creased, coated with specks of paint and other industrial liquids. He’s wearing a pair of boots that are likely steel- toed .

“What do you stay in touch about?”

“Uh, mostly games and TV if I’m being honest. It’s nice having someone around who has the same tastes as you, you know? Plus, she did help me get with my girlfriend so I feel indebted.”

He laughed at that as well before adding. “I don’t actually feel indebted, Max. I was being sarcastic.”

“I can still tell what sarcasm is.”

“You sure about that?”

“If we were texting, I would think it was sarcastic. This is basically the same thing.”

He seemed to err on that one. “Not the reason I would like, but if you’re able to understand our emotions with yours turned off then you’re doing great! Understanding is good.”

So it seems...

I’m going to look into Max’s model. After this is done, I want to be ready for this to happen again. And  to  make sure she carries those gel packs, because that is a very easy fix or a scary problem and this shouldn’t be happening.

I’m her girlfriend. I should be able to take better care of her.

I might as well start right now.  I help Warren sit Max up against the wall, tensions leaving me all the more when I don’t hear the fans as loudly as before.

“Is overheating in Synths common?”

Warren once again answers without so much as looking away from his device. There’s a steady pattern to the lights that seem to please him. “It’s not uncommon. If someone's brain get too overloaded with new stimuli then it tends to slow down for a while so it can adapt. It happens a lot in fresh builds but it’s something to watch out for.”

“How do I watch out for it?”

“Eh… well, you can’t really.” He looks crossly to Max before turning his sights back on me. “But you can make sure your girlfriend keeps a cooling pack on her like she’s meant to. Or carry one of your own just in case.”

I plan to. At least, for while. This is a little too raw at the moment and I think that  feeling  will last for a few days to come.

Max lays there as before, not doing much of anything other than looking at the world around her. Her face doesn’t look as empty as I thought it would; there’s still a flicker of something there. There’s still a calm expression  with life about it.

But that’s all pre-programmed. Or remembered from when she did have her emotions turned on. Or maybe a little of both?

If her banter proves anything, she still remembers and recognises what it is like to have emotions. She just isn’t feeling them right this second. I suppose even I have that at times.

“What other sort of things do you help with?” I ask.

“Minor repairs are the most common. You know, if something happens that they aren’t used to fixing by themselves?” I nod.

“Like a paramedic?”

“That’s giving me a little too much credit. The only other thing I deal with regularly are small-time memory downloads. If something memorable happens, they might ask me to download the memory so they have a copy. Just in case.”

“Isn’t that...” I search for the right word. Now that I’m saying it, I worry that it sounds derogatory. “Is it not irritating being called for things like that? Couldn’t they do that at home?”

“Nah, it’s why I’m here.” He takes a brief pause to think on his own words. “And not to sound like a jerk or anything, but Max has had her life for a while. A lot of the Synths here are only three or four years old. They don’t have a big setup at home or years worth of equipment to fall back on.”

Something like regret swims through my head before Max raises her right hand and raises two fingers; index and pinky. _Rock on!_

It brings a smile to my face and my moment of insecurity has passed.

“It’s good having all my stuff at home,” she explains. “I used to have memory dumps all the time before Dad got the big setup for my birthday.”

There’s a brief snicker from Warren the second Max is finished with ‘memory dumps’.

For the first time in a while, Max’s face changes. Her brow furrows, almost comically so, in a forced indication of irritation.

“Dude, even with my emotions shut down I can tell that wasn’t funny.”

“Yeah, I know,” he laughs. “Whatever.”

Chatter continues, for what little it covers. Warren keeps doing what he’s trained to do and I sit there with Max’s hand, not quite sure what I should actually be doing. Despite that, Max squeezes my palm each time I do the same and it makes the action worthwhile.

Until Warren clicks the inside of his mouth.

“Max, there’s still a lot of junk folders in your HeadSpace.”

“I know; I put them there.”

Despite her answer, he still doesn’t seem best pleased.

“Super Mario?”

“It’s barely a megabyte.”

“Okay, fine. Final Fantasy II?”

“… It takes a while to get into.”

The next one seems to confuse him the most. I’m not even entirely sure what the issues with the last two were, but this one seems different. “Dude, your Cyberman voice mod is still in here. That was almost a year ago.”

“ **THE CYBERMEN ARE NOT SO EASILY DEFEATED,”** I jump back for a moment. The noise was far deeper and far louder than Max had been speaking previously. **“WE WILL SURVIVE.** ”

I look to Warren for reassurance but he just sighs, defeated.

“You’d _really_ rather have this inside your head than a new memory?”

“ **THE UPGRADE IS COMPULSORY.”**

“You’re already fully upgraded dude, there’s no meat to replace.”

“ **CYBERDATA IS BACKED UP AT EVEN INTERVALS. LACK OF SPACE IN THE NEURAL NETWORK IS NOT A-”** Her voice suddenly sparks out and returns to normal. The forced groove in her forehead returns. “Hey! Don’t you override me.”

“Good to see you have annoyance down. Might need to work on your humility a little.”

“You’re just jealous that I can keep my voice mod with me at all times.”

“Yes, Max, I am _so very_ jealous that you can talk like a Cyberman. You can do whatever you want with your mods; its your head, Max. Just try to clean out the junk every once in a while.”

A glance at the little screen and, sure enough, CYBERMAN_VOICE_version3.mod is huddled together with all the other things he listed. Below it are several other files with names that, I assume, link to games and television shows. I recognise few of them.

After all of that, there are simply numbered files with increasingly long sequences with extensions denoting them as memory files.

“Could she actually run out of memory space with those extra files in there?”

Warren errs. “Honestly? She’s probably fine. It’s a pretty common way of having easy to reach files with you at all times, if not a little messy. She’ll know when things are getting a bit too full to handle. If worst comes to worst, she can backup her systems a day or so early. I can say what I want, but it’s her head. Plus, she’s given them all pretty obvious names so her HeadSpace is never going to access them by accident.”

That all sounds… good. I think.

At the very least, it has reassured me that Max isn’t going to get to the point where she has to stop whatever it is she’s doing because she only has a few minutes of available memory left inside her brain.

A few more clicks and Warren speaks again. “Right, almost done. Since you’re here though, any major life updates since we last spoke.”

“I messaged you two days ago.”

He rolls his eyes. “Anything you can’t be bothered to type over chat.”

“No. Still dating someone. Not ruined it yet. You?”

“Still seeing Brook, not screwed it up.”

“Have you had sex yet?”

When Warren widens his eyes in shock I realise that this isn’t just a situation where I am out of the loop; it’s inappropriate. I wince as he shifts on floor, distinctly uncomfortable with the line of questioning. As am I.

I have never spoken to Max about sex in great detail. We have touched on religion one or twice, when she asked about my faith. Like everyone else who asks me, she got a brief rundown on the aspects I follow. Celibacy was mentioned but never picked apart.

If anything, Max being a Synth has been a blessing in that sense. Max can feel attraction and enjoy physical sensation but those do not quite equate to lust. That, she said, would require a further update to her systems. Apparently, the update comes free if you purchase the appropriate anatomy augments, so I don’t need to worry about her going to far. At the same time, I feel no dark lust for her. I feel attraction and want and the desire to be close to her. I feel a need to be in contact and I enjoy kissing her and being kissed in turn.

But there is nothing dirty or lewd. My partner does not have the capacity to be pleased in that sense, so I have no desire to please her.

Warren finally responds. “We, uh, have not done the sexy times, no...” He looks over to his machine again, clearly seeing something I do not. Or something he’d rather see. “You’re going to be mortified in just under a minute, by the way.”

“That seems likely. I will likely apologise then as well.”

“Not going to apologise now?”

“I want to make sure my apology is justified.” There’s a brief pause before she turns to look into him. “You _could_ get back at me. You could have asked about me and Kate.”

“As interesting as I’m sure that will be, I think I’ll give it a pass. Your girlfriend is sat just over there,” he says, waving to me.

My cheeks grow warm and I am not sure I like them doing that.

Still, I wave back.

“Besides, you would totally boast if you had any ‘sexy parts’ installed. It might be good to leave these discussions until then.”

“I still want to get a stomach first.”

“Again, it’s not the stomach you need to worry about; it’s the exit strategy. Stomachs are pretty universal but you need to think what you want to happen to the food.”

“So I can’t talk about my future vajayjay 3000 but you can mention my butt? That’s harsh.”

Warren simply rolls his eyes. “It’s either that or a little baggy that you clean out twice a day and as far as I can tell, you don’t want that.”

“I just want to go out for food with my friends,” she adds. “And eat waffles.”

Warren takes a deep breath and turns to me. “This going to sound really weird, but please talk to her about stomachs and butts at some point. Seriously. I’m asking both as Max’s friend and as the first person she is going to call if things go wrong.”

I motion to agree, because it would be hypocritical of me to say otherwise after deciding to study up on her body, but there’s a sudden ping from Warren’s machine. He claps his hands and pulls away the cooling packs.

“Right! Ready to have your head back?”

“I’m ready.”

“Emotions coming back three, two, one...”

There a second ping and he simply pulls the cable from Max’s head. The instant the ping sounds, however, before she has even been disconnected, Max lowers her head into her waiting palms and lets out the most humiliated moan I think I have ever heard in my life.

“Oh my _God,_ I wasn't ready!”

And… now she’s curling into her knees, hiding her head as deep into lap as humanly possible.

“I’m sorry, Warren. I am so fucking sorry for asking about you and Brooke.” Her voice in muffled by her jeans, but that only makes the act seem more sincere. She does eventually come up from her safe place. “And seriously dude, thanks for not asking back. That was cool.”

“Max, you would totally tell me if you ever got a ‘Vajayjay 3000’ installed.”

She goes red again and glances at me this time. She seems wary of my reaction, until she realises I’m not going to give her one worth worrying about. I only smile and squeeze her hand once more. “It’s your body, Max.”

“And your head,” Warren adds. He’s pulling the cables back into his box and packing away his tools. “Get used to carrying a cooling pack and try not to get too angry on hot days, for now. The more data your head has to go on, the easier it will all be to deal with.”

Max nods and pulls herself up from the floor. She rubs the back of her head, despite any obvious reason to do so and sheepishly looks towards me again.

“I, uh, kinda feel like shit for what I said to Victoria, too.”

That surprises me, a little.

“Not everything. She had that coming. Just… you know, the last thing was kind of shitty. After she helped and stuff.”

That, not so much.

Victoria is hardly the nicest girl… but I do suppose she did try to help Max. Not to mention that for all their bickering had caused before, she seemed genuinely upset. The colours of eyes come to mind, with the deep dark blue as Max’s fit began to return of the horrid red as she stormed off.

Red, I can figure out. But…

“What does dark blue mean? When someone has modded eyes?”

Warren quirks an eyebrow, though seemingly gets where I’m going. “Light blue is generally sadness. A darker blue is fear or guilt. Usually. Definitely fear if there’s some black in there.”

“Victoria had really dark blue eyes when Max had her episode...”

Guilt stirs and grows across Max’s face. Her hands come back to hide it all despite the damage already done.

I do not like Victoria. She is mean and superficial. She makes fun of my friends and, in part, caused Max to break down and overheat all over the floor. Part of me would very much like to leave her well enough alone to stew in whatever feelings she’s brought on herself.

But, on the other hand…

She helped us.

She waited, helped and told me everything would be okay. Even if it was in her own sort of way. And if her eyes are any indication, she felt something for Max in that moment. Guilt or fear. Something made her want to stop and help.

With that said… in that final moment, Max was not nice. I can’t say it was unwarranted but it still does not sit right with me.

It seems Max has come to this conclusion on her own.

Minutes pass by as Warren finishes with his packing. He tells me that we all need to meet up at some point to officially meet, rather than chatting with Max getting all hot and bothered on the floor.

“We could double date!”

Max seems much more into the idea than Warren, but he nods along regardless. There’s a beep at his waist. After answering his phone and talking to someone I probably don’t know, he’s pulled off for some other event that will hopefully not be as dramatic for him as this one.

As he wanders away, I make a choice.

“I think we should thank Victoria.”

Max nods, somewhat slowly. “Yeah. You’re probably right. I should have quit while I was ahead.” And on the floor, but I don’t say that out loud.

We wander in the direction Victoria stormed off, half-peering into open rooms as we pass them by. Most are filled with students doing nothing in particular, but Victoria isn’t among those people. Nearing the outside portions of the of our the sector, I catch a glimpse of cropped blonde hair and billowing blue smoke.

Victoria is outside, in the smoking zone. She huffs at her spark plug and, again, there’s another plume of sparkling blue smoke. It shifts through the air like ink in water but disperses soon after. I can imagine it smelling awful sweet and sickly.

There’s no one else outside. At that, I motion Max to follow me to join her.

Doors open and we pass the containment field. Contrary to my supposition, the air isn’t sweet. It’s a blizzard of icy spices, like a strong mint hitting the back of my throat and rushing up through my nose. There’s a slight sheen to air once the smoke fully dissipates, until the next puff cleans the slate and begins again.

My mom often berates people who smoke, citing tobacco as a foul smelling gunk despite it having little to no common use. The only people who really use it are already well into forties or fifties at this point. Even so, she uses it as an excuse to complain about the current generation. I still doubt she’d enjoy this smell, however.

Either way, I am impartial. I would rather not smell it, but I am stood in one of the few areas where it is permitted. The smell does not drift outside the containment field and for that reason I can’t really complain.

I clear my throat in an effort to ease the feeling and it quickly catches Victoria’s attention. Her neck twists enough for her to face us before her eyes burn that vivid orange once again. Another puff of the spark plug and she’s looking away from us, out over the balcony and the entirety of the campus below.

I gently nudge Max. She furrows her brow before slowly complying.

“Hey.” Good start, Max.

Victoria doesn’t reply. She cranes are neck back once again and waits. Her eyes look into Max, as if to say, _‘Yes? Can I fucking help you?’_

“Hey,” Max says again, somehow less enthusiastic than the first time. “You can be a massive ass Victoria. I haven’t changed my mind about that. But...” She looks to me and I give her a smile and a nod. “I shouldn’t have been talking about your junk. It was kind of cool that you called for help and told Kate there wasn’t anything wrong. Especially when you could have left her there.”

I’m not sure what reaction I expected, but Victoria’s eyes sizzle out from broiling little suns into pale grey. She scowls at us as she turns her attention back to the outside world. Another puff.

“It doesn’t really matter; I was being a massive bitch to your girlfriend. I had it coming.”

“Still, sorry. You really helped us out.”

Puff.

Puff.

“Yeah, well… I’m sorry for talking shit about Price and your girlfriend. I just wanted to push some buttons. You turned up first.”

Now I’m stuck at the crossroads of whether Victoria is really the horrible person that I always believed her to be. Everything I have seen implies her to be the exact sort of person that I hate; spiteful, rude and uncaring. She insults people as she pleases and holds herself above those she perceives as imperfect, despite being modded to reduce her own imperfections.

Yet… that modding could also cause problems for someone like her.

If her eyes are modded to portray emotions, there would be little use in pretending to be someone she is not. And her clique would likely label her as a fake if she got all the mods installed and then _didn’t_ do anything with her eyes.

She either acts how she feels or has her eyes do the talking for her. There is no in-between path or way out for her to take. Her emotions are out there and she can’t change that.

Unless she somehow coded her own eyes. Given her habit of buying the latest fashion trends, I highly doubt that to be the case.

With one final puff, Victoria clears her throat of blue haze and snaps away her spark plug. It slips easily into her purse and she turns her whole body back to us. “I have shit to get done. Get in touch if you need advice on which dick you want to get installed. Pretty sure I owe the two of you something at this point.”

“Uh, I mean, that’s great?” Max begins, insincerity prominent in her eyes. “I guess? But I’m not looking right now. Or what kind I want to go-”

Victoria stick up her middle finger to us and lazily waves goodbye with her other hand. She’s smiling to herself, looking right passed us towards the door. Then she leaves.

She’s gone.

One thing she said hits the back of my head rather hard.

There are different kinds of… _thing_ to choose from? How do-

No.

Just… no. Not for me.

Not right now.

I let the thought drift from my head. They are impure thoughts. They’re dirty and not something I should let linger within my head.

I focus back onto Victoria and the fact that she even offered the advice to Max at all. In all likelihood, it was all a ploy to get under my skin, regardless of whether Max agreed to it or not. It’s what she does.

That settles it; Victoria is definitely not a nice sort of person.

Most of the time.

**Author's Note:**

> Android!Max is back! I'm not as fond of this chapter as I am the previous ones but I've had the swirling around my head for a good few months. it's only now that I've finally got around to checking through the whole thing.


End file.
